Miscellany
by Mary B. Wolf
Summary: Where plot bunnies live. / / #6: It's a numbers game.
1. Boyfriend Jeans

Please be gentle, it's my first time. Also, Leverage belongs to people who are not me. I am not associated in any way with any of the lot of them. This is purely for fun, not profit.

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><p>Eliot's jeans are huge on Parker, but when his phone rings after ten just as he rolls over on top of her, his kiss deepening with definite intent, and it turns out to be Nate calling them back into the office, she <em>refuses <em>to put on the ridiculous pencil skirt Sophie had shoved her into that morning for their con.

So she snags Eliot's discarded pants from the floor on the other side of the bed, pressing her bare breasts into his abdomen as she does. She feels his hand smooth down her back before she gets out of bed and shimmies into them, to his appreciative stare.

"What am I supposed to wear?" he demands as she also forgoes the prim white button-down blouse tossed in a wrinkled heap across the room, in favor of his long-sleeved plaid flannel.

Instead of answering, Parker crushes the collar to her face, inhaling happily. "It smells like you," she informs him, poking her nose out and snuggling back in.

"…wrong with you," she hears him mutter, though with enough affection in his tone that she knows he doesn't mean for it sting. She smiles into his shirt.

He's still lying on the bed, so she climbs atop him, knees braced on either side of his hips, and leans down to press her mouth to his in a long, languid kiss. She flicks her tongue against his lips fleetingly and sits up. His hands are on her hips, poised for movement, and she's pleased at the way their grip tightens when she moves to stand.

He makes a noise of protest as she lifts herself away, saying, "Up. We need to go."

Eliot mutters something to himself, clearly unhappy at all the sex he _isn't_ going to be having tonight, but Parker isn't listening—she's plundering his underwear drawer for socks and heading for the door to put on the sneakers she's left here.

By the time she's got the first one tied, he's emerging from his bedroom, fully dressed with his boots in hand and a steep frown firmly in place.

"Cheer up, grumpy pants," Parker orders plainly, leaning to put on her other shoe. When she looks up, he's giving the bedroom door a longing stare, one she's sure she's supposed to have missed. She stands and sashays up to him, giving him a saucy grin.

"Parker," he starts, but she cuts him off with a quick peck.

"Smile for me," she whispers into his ear, eliciting a nearly undetectable shiver, "and I'll do that thing you like so much." She draws back in time to see his eyes darken, and he pulls his lips into something that resembles a snarl more closely than a smile, and she giggles.

"Close enough?"

"Close enough."

They leave, Eliot opening his truck's door for her to climb in and closing it after her. She's always found it strange that he does that—she's perfectly capable of opening her own doors—but after about the third or fourth explanation of manners and respect deteriorated into little more than frustrated growling, she'd quit protesting and gone with it.

The ride to Nate's place is a quiet one and they climb the stairs side-by-side. Eliot opens the door to let her in first, closing it behind them.

Nate is seated at the table, staring at the screens. Sophie is in the kitchen, a steaming ceramic mug in her hands, and as Parker approaches Nate, Hardison comes down the stairs.

Sophie's gaze flickers over them briefly, Parker notes, and her dark eyes narrow in a way she's only seen them do when she's sizing up a mark. She's not certain she likes that look being directed at her. Her thing with Eliot is just that—_her_ thing with _Eliot_. Not for anyone else to know about or judge.

Before anything else can happen, Nate looks away from the screens and calls them all over. The meeting kicks off without issue, and it turns out to be a small, simple hiccup in their plan—the safe is in a secondary location and Parker will need to get away from the mark to get to it. Nate has called them all over so he only has to explain it once and make sure the entire team is all on the same page about the new plan. It takes a few hours' worth of reconfiguring Parker's part before Nate smiles proudly and lets them all go.

Sophie catches up with her in the stairwell and Eliot keeps going. Hardison is still in the apartment, shutting down all of the equipment.

"So, does this mean you're finally going to officially tell us?" Sophie asks. "Not that we didn't all know already anyway. You're both so obvious…and now you're wearing boyfriend jeans!"

"Boyfriend jeans?" Parker repeats, genuinely confused.

"When a woman puts on her man's pants after spending the night together and she doesn't want to wear her own clothes," Sophie explains, somewhat impatiently. Then she gasps. "Wait, what was wrong with the skirt I gave you this morning?"

"No, nothing," Parker says quickly, wanting to get back to the 'boyfriend jeans' part—emphasis on the boyfriend—and, more importantly, what Sophie knows. "The skirt was fine—back to the jeans…" She toys with the cuff of Eliot's flannel shirt where it covers her hands for a nervous moment before realising she's doing so and dropping it.

Sophie giggles, a sound Parker emphatically does _not_ approve of when it's being aimed at her, and flaps a hand dismissively. "Darling," she says brightly, "did you think we didn't know you and Eliot are at least sleeping together?" She laughs again. "Parker, dear, why do you think _your_ phone never rang tonight?"

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><p>Hope you enjoyed! I apologise if I've done anything horrible with the characters. I've only seen a handful of episodes from every season but season one, but Leverage has eaten my brain. (I blame Christian Kane entirely. He is a <em>damn<em> fine man with a _sexy_ voice. And he can sing? *discreetly wipes away drool*)


	2. Turkey Day

I am not associated in any way with any part of Leverage, its cast, or its crew. This is a work of fanfiction, intended purely for fun, not profit.

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><p>People had been drifting in and out of the kitchen all morning while he was cooking.<p>

First, Hardison had tried to make off with the apple pie filling while Eliot's back was turned and he was rolling out the crust. Eliot had bruised Hardison's knuckles with his awesome marble French rolling pin. He smiled every time he remembered Hardison's pained yelp.

Nate had come through next, absconding with the half-empty bottle of brandy he'd used in the baked apples. Eliot hadn't cared, because he'd been done with it, Nate hadn't done anything but glance absently at the celery he was chopping finely for the stuffing, and he couldn't exactly abuse the boss.

Sophie had stopped in after that, actually doing something useful by offering to run to the grocery store to pick up a few things after walking in on him swearing violently and tearing the kitchen apart. He'd written a list and Sophie had snagged a sparkling water from the fridge and gone.

Parker had traipsed in on her sneaky thief's feet and perched on the counter, staring at him silently while he mixed bread dough in lieu of green bean casserole. The quiet had lasted all of ten seconds before she was pestering him with inane questions and burning herself on the roaster. He'd slapped a pickle on the burn, hustled her onto Hardison, who'd returned to make another attempt at the apple pie filling, and gone back to his food.

After Sophie had returned with his missing ingredients, she'd taken over for Hardison in explaining about Thanksgiving. Eliot only half paid attention to the murmured conversations going on around the apartment, focusing more on remembering how much Worcestershire sauce went into the green bean casserole.

It took him the better part of the morning, chopping, dicing, measuring, baking, basting, boiling, mashing, mixing, and garnishing before he was proudly setting a beautiful, golden-brown, juicy turkey in pride of place on the dining table amid bowls and platters of his food. His family chattered contentedly around him, Sophie complimenting the color of the turkey, Nate happily accepting the meat fork and carving knife. Eliot straightened.

The turkey exploded.

"I didn't know they did that," Parker commented, cocking her head curiously at Sophie. "Is it supposed to do that?"

Eliot tackled her out of her chair without a second thought and dragged her under the table. Hardison joined them in the next second to the sounds of Nate and Sophie scrambling for cover behind the counter.

"Man, who shootin' at us now?" Hardison demanded. Another shot put a hole in the leg of the table.

"We have far too many enemies to guess accurately at the moment," Sophie said.

A third shot shattered a bowl on the table's top. From the sound, there were mashed potatoes everywhere now.

"We'll figure it out," Nate assured them.

Blind rage was flashing through Eliot underneath the burning need to protect the others. He worked to tame it, but not before he growled, "And then they're going to die."

"We're not intentionally killing anyone, Eliot," Nate said. "That isn't how we operate. You know that."

"They're going down, Nate," Eliot snarled. "They destroyed my turkey."

Nate didn't argue after that.

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><p>I started watching Leverage sometime in November of last year. I don't remember when I found out that Eliot cooks, but when I did, this popped into mind and wouldn't let me go. I hope you enjoyed.<p> 


	3. Approval

When Parker turned up on his doorstep with a man on her arm and a ring on her finger, Archie was confused and thrilled by turns.

He'd never quite managed to imagine that Parker would ever get engaged (and he'd tried to subtly dissuade her from that path early in her training; as much as he loved with wife and family, he couldn't help feeling a tad guilty for the secrets and dangers they never knew about), but now that she was here with her fiancé, he couldn't be happier for her.

Except for one little thing...

"Who is this young man?"

Parker tilted her head in child-like confusion. "This is Hardison," she told him in a tone that said he should remember. "You approved of him."

Her puzzled eyes never left him, but Archie witnessed the surprise that crossed Hardison's face.

"No, no," Archie insisted. "I remember him. He is your teammate. But I never approved of him..."

Now Hardison looked offended and like he wanted to speak but was recalling Archie's cane and seeing Chaos' skeleton when he got hit with the taser.

Parker's eyes widened with what looked like fear. "Who did you approve of, then?" she asked anxiously.

Archie smirked, remembering the muscled man he'd had every confidence would protect his little girl come hell or high water.

"That hitter fellow," he told her. "El-something?"

"Eliot," she gasped. She stood still for a moment, considering, before turning to the man next to her. "Sorry, Hardison," she told him sincerely. "But you have to go. Send Eliot in to meet his future father-in-law."

Hardison looked like he'd been stabbed in the gut, but he stood and left anyway, shaking slightly.

Archie couldn't hold in the uproarious laughter. He'd always known Parker would railroad that boy. It was why he'd chosen the other one for her.

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><p>Disclaimer: If you really need one of these, you've clearly forgotten where you are. Consult the map and try again.<p>

I originally posted this on the parker_eliot comm on LJ months ago as a comment fic after the season finale.


	4. Dinner Date

I swear I started this before ultrawoman started her high school AU (which is totally awesome and you should go read it and let her know how much you love it).

Yes, more Eliot/Parker. It's my favorite Leverage 'ship. Enjoy, and remember-check your address bar if you have any delusions that I own this. ;D

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><p><em>Dinner Date<em>

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><p>"Archie wants to meet you," Parker announced, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She handed Eliot a paper cup of steaming coffee, fixed up just right at the gas station across the street after he'd called her ten minutes ago and told her he was going to be late to school.<p>

He gratefully sipped from the cup as she nestled herself into his side next to his car and then finally managed to croak, "Why?"

"Because he wants to get to know the boy I'm going to be having sex with," she told him frankly, and coffee nearly came out of his nose. He'd known Parker nearly his entire life, a side effect of growing up in a one-horse town and having a class of less than forty people, but somehow he'd managed to avoid having to meet Archie until now.

He swallowed hard and lifted his arm away so he could face her. "Parker, darlin'," he began.

"I know, I know," she interrupted, waving a hand. She sobered, a rare and somewhat disturbing state for her, and continued, "But we're starting to get a little more serious now, and…I want to make sure you two get along before we _do_ start having sex—"

"—_Parker—"_

"—or anything," she finished, skipping neatly over his choked rendition of her name.

Eliot's heart was thudding in his chest, but he nodded. "Okay."

"Great!" she chirped. "Friday night, my house. Marilyn is making a pot roast. Bring pie. His favorite kind is strawberry-rhubarb." She made a move like she was going to snuggle back into him, but the bell rang from inside the school, so she just pecked him on the mouth and darted away, her book bag slapping against her hip as she ran.

He gulped down the rest of his coffee and followed, making a mental note to ask his mother where she'd stashed the strawberry-rhubarb pie recipe.

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><p>Something about Archie's unrelenting stare was beginning to make Eliot feel like a bug under a microscope. He was being studied, to what end an unpleasant mystery. It also probably didn't help that Parker was making no attempt to mediate between her adoptive father and her boyfriend, happily cuddled in Eliot's lap on the sofa and apparently oblivious to the awkward hostility in the room.<p>

And then a soft snore reached his ears. She was sleeping? What the hell? He checked his watch and it turned out to be almost midnight. He had a curfew, so he shifted and stood with her in his arms.

"Mr. Leach?" he said softly. The older man cocked a brow without saying a word. "I, ah…" How to say this without sounding even _more_ awkward? "Where is Parker's bedroom? I want to take her to bed before I go home."

He cringed. _Way to go, dumbass._

Archie frowned. "I'll take her," he said, standing.

"No, that's okay," Eliot protested quickly, unconsciously hugging Parker closer to his chest. "I've got her."

"Yes," Archie murmured. "That's exactly the trouble." Then he sighed and beckoned with a hand, leading him to Parker's room. Archie turned down the blankets and Eliot covered her back up, kissing her forehead before returning to the foyer and the front door with Archie.

He stuck his hand out and looked Archie square in the eye. "Thank you for the meal, Mr. Leach. Your wife is a fine cook." Archie shook his hand.

"Thank you, Eliot," Archie said. "Your pie was good, too."

He smiled gratefully. "The recipe is my mama's, sir," he admitted.

"Give her my compliments, would you?" Archie asked, and Eliot nodded.

"I should go, sir," he said softly. "I gotta get home before curfew."

Archie opened the door, commenting, "You seem to be a decent boy, Mr. Spencer," before it closed behind him.


	5. Bite Sized

I enjoyed writing these. I hope you enjoy reading them, and remember-I don't own. Comments are appreciated but not necessary. :D

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><p><strong>First Time (Chaos and Tara)<strong>

The first time Tara meets Chaos in person, she laughs in his face because she finally gets the joke. She's listened to Sophie bitch for hours on end about how much her team's geek abhors his rival, and seeing him, she understands why. Chaos could be Hardison, if Hardison were shorter and paler and far more annoying.

Chaos, naturally, is offended, but he's learned his lesson about trying to kill grifters attached to the Leverage team. So he quietly installs custom-designed software on her phone and waits.

**Angst (Nate)**

Sophie's hand is low on her abdomen, her face set in the 'how do I say this' expression he's only seen her wear a handful of times, and suddenly Nate is thirteen years in the past, coming in the door to a woman who is the polar opposite of Sophie in every way and yet wears the exact same expression as those words fall from their lips.

"I'm pregnant, Nate." Maggie's voice echoes in his memory as Sophie's voice echoes in the kitchen, and Nate's knees go weak. Thirteen years ago, they went weak from joy. Now they go weak from terror.

Everything beautiful that's handed to him has an expiration date. His mother, his wife, his son, even his father. Thus far, he's considered it a miracle - or immense stupidity on her part - that Sophie's stayed so long.

He doesn't want to kill another innocent person just by being in their life.

But Sophie's lovely mouth is lifting into a hopeful smile, her dark eyes lit with tentative happiness, so Nate smiles back and takes her into his arms. Later, after she's left for the first of what he's sure will be a vast number of baby-shopping sprees, his expression falters and he spikes his whiskey with coffee.

**AU (Archie and Eliot)**

"He was _out!"_ Archie snapped, working hard to conceal his panic. When had Nate gotten this reckless with his people? "He was home free-"

"Shut up, Leach, I'm thinking," Nate interrupted sharply. "Parker, you can see him?"

"Of course, Nate," Parker answered swiftly. "He's...pacing. And muttering to himself like he's me."

"Eliot," Archie said, turning away from Nate. He was only endangering Eliot and he hadn't put in all that time and effort into training just for him to get killed indulging a drunk's fantasy. "Can you hear me?"

"I can hear you, sir," Eliot answered. "What is it?"

"I want you to get out of there, now," Archie ordered. "Light and quick so they don't catch you. Isn't that what I taught you?"

"It is, sir. But that was a long time ago and this team has taught me different."

Archie was taken aback at the way Eliot subtly put him in his place and a small, proud smile fought at his lips. The boy had found a family in these people and he was willing to risk it all for the self-assigned mission. After all, wasn't that why Archie himself had taken this job - to protect his own family?

"Alright, kid," he said, resigned, "where do we go from here?"

**Threesome (Sophie, Tara, and Sterling)**

It felt like a betrayal of Nate's trust - of her entire team's trust - working with Sterling, but Tara had called, a note of desperation in her voice that Sophie had never heard there before. Sterling had, as per his usual, blackmailed her into a job, and she wanted backup.

"You're the only one I can even consider trusting on a job like this, Soph," Tara had pled.

Something had gone sideways somewhere and now she and Tara were both dressed to the nines, hanging on Sterling's arms like simpering fools at some business gala.

"This had better work, Tara," Sophie hissed furiously as Sterling's hand dipped a bit too low on her waist. She resisted the urge to dig a thumb into the soft part of his wrist in a simple, effective move Eliot had just taught her.

Tara winced, casually twining her fingers through Sterling's to lift his hand higher. "It will," she assured, confidence dripping from her tone.

"It's my plan, of course it'll work," Sterling interjected smugly, and Sophie stopped resisting the urge. His stifled scream was utterly satisfying.

**Hurt/Comfort (Maggie and Hardison)**

Hardison is really tall. Maggie comes to this realisation as her head is on his chest and his head is on hers in a sudden and extremely unexpected hug. She pats his back and he squeezes her tighter, his breath hitching.

"Sophie is a tough cookie," Maggie murmurs. "She'll pull through just fine." They're empty words, intended to comfort, and Hardison only seems to collapse further into himself.

Nate is a wreck, staring at the door to the operating room like it's the key to his salvation. Parker is nowhere to be found - hasn't even been seen since Sophie was shot. Eliot had been gone by the time she'd arrived and Hardison has been clinging to her since she walked in.

In truth, Maggie is just as scared as Hardison, but given that Sophie is usually the mother in these situations, she holds herself together and strokes his back soothingly.

**Crackfic (Archie)**

"No!" Archie squirmed in the teacher's grasp. She had a pretty decent hold on his ear, and it hurt to squirm, but this was _wrong._ "Let me go! I'm not five!"

"Funny how you're not denying you didn't take Hannah's crayon, though, isn't it?" the teacher demanded.

"I took the damn crayon!" he argued back. The teacher gasped but he continued on, regardless. "This isn't - _I'm not five years old!_ Let go!"

He hadn't been this bad at stealing since he _was_ five years old, damned chubby fingers unable to grab things lightly anymore, damned chubby arms and legs unable to perform the gymnastic moves he'd used in countless heists.

"We're going to have a long, _long_ chat with your mother, young man," the teacher promised.

_Parker!_ Yes! She was posing as his mother until Hardison fixed whatever the hell had gone wrong with his crazy machine and got him back to the proper age - unless Archie could convince him to stop at the later teen years.

**Horror (Hardison)**

Eliot was the first to go. He went down fighting, protecting - clawing for them to get that extra second to make their own escape - even though he was burning up with fever and coughing up blood and spongy bits of what were probably his lungs. He'd gotten bitten protecting Hardison in a pharmaceutical lab while searching for proof that the company had developed the drug that jumpstarted the outbreak.

Next was Sophie, mauled to death when one of the infected turned at a gala where she was trying to charm information out of the head of research and development the next week. Nate barely made it out alive, having been her partner, as usual. Then he helped Hardison and Parker firebomb the hotel, refusing to discuss it.

Nate died somewhere between that night and the next morning, finally drowning in a bottle. Parker blew his head off with the shotgun when he came at her and withdrew so far into herself that she never said another word.

With those three gone, there wasn't much point - or fight - left for either Hardison or Parker. By then, most of the world had either been infected or eaten and all that was left for them was survival.

**Babyfic (Maggie and Sterling)**

"James, I thought you already had a daughter." Maggie tried not to sound annoyed, but it wasn't working. So far, she had done _everything_ to take care of this baby, from feeding and changing to bathing and dressing him.

"I did," Sterling answered, not glancing away from the newspaper he'd buried his nose in as soon as Maggie had entered the room with baby Aiden on her shoulder. "My wife took care of all...that." He waved a hand at where she'd set him down in a high chair with some dry cereal.

She grit her teeth, half-praying that today would be the day Nate or Sophie or Eliot called and gave them the all-clear to return the child to his parents. She was still wondering how she and James had ended up stashed in a safehouse with an infant in the first place.

"Well, it's time for you to learn," she announced. "I'm sick of doing all the baby work around here. _You_ are changing the next dirty diaper and _you_ are bathing him tonight." James turned his head to look at her, scowl set on his face. _"Period,"_ she added with all the steel in her.

**Dark (Parker and Eliot)**

Parker's scream rattles through Eliot with all the force of a hurricane, rebounding sickeningly in the concrete room they're locked in. So many of his bones have been broken by now that he's lost count of the cracks, agony singing through him with every movement.

That, however, ceases to matter the instant the door swings open on its well-oiled hinges and a man he's never seen before heads for Parker, hand on his fly. His instincts kick in and he begins to fight against his bonds to get to her. He collapses with a hoarse cry before he even makes it to the end of his tether.

He knows he will never be able to scrub the sound of Parker whimpering and thrashing from his mind, but the terrible quiet that falls when she stops struggling is even worse.

**Deathfic (Parker and Sophie)**

_Jeanne Louise Campbell  
><em>_December 14, 1961 - July 17, 2005_

Sophie silently read the headstone over Parker's shoulder, unsure of whose it was. The name meant something, because Parker had gone still and quiet, like flat champagne.

"She was my mother," Parker said suddenly. "My real mother. I was taken from her when I was five. I barely remember her."

Sophie was stunned into silence, touched that she was sharing this much. After a moment, she reached out and tentatively brushed Parker's hand with her own. Parker seized it like a lifeline and held tight.

"She found me," Parker said, voice low and choked, "about a year before she died. She...wanted to apologize. For letting me get taken away. I never even knew it until she showed up, but I was so _angry_ at her for that. I didn't want to forgive her..."

_And now it's too late,_ Sophie thought, finishing Parker's sentence. She still didn't say anything, though now it was out of fear that if she spoke, Parker would stop.

"Sophie-" The word was little more than a sob, and Parker spun to bury her face in her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around Parker gently, until the other woman pulled away. Her eyes were dry and there were no tear tracks on her face.

"I wonder sometimes what it would have been like," Parker admitted softly. Irrational panic fluttered in Sophie's heart, questions beginning to race through her mind. "I just wonder...and then I see one of you and I stop wondering. Because I have a family now and I don't need her anymore."

Sophie smiled and gave her hand a gentle tug. "Come on, Parker," she said. "The others are waiting for us." It was a simple distraction. Parker would continue to grieve, regardless of what she thought. But at least she knew that she had people to support her.

Parker took one last look at the grave marker and then followed Sophie away.


	6. Numbers

_Numbers_

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><p>"You only sent four men?"<p>

Four men are an insult, no match for someone like him.

"Highly trained, experienced, dangerous men armed to their teeth- "

_"Four__,"_ she interrupts. "Four men are nothing to my husband. You'll be getting pieces of them back in the mail."

He backhands her, a sickening _crack_ echoing through the room. She spits blood, cackling.

"Only four."

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><p>Two days later, he storms through the door, hands up and loose. He dodges the rifle butt aimed at his head and in less than ten seconds has taken possession of and disarmed it.<p>

He doesn't miss when he slams the gun into the other man's head. The other man crumples as he approaches her. He flips his knife out of his pocket easily and slits the bonds on her arms and legs. "His men led me to you."

Her head lolls on her shoulders. A wide, bloody grin splits her face and her voice cracks when she laughs and says, "He only sent four."

He laughs with her.

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><p>Thanks for reading.<p> 


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